


Sleep Aid

by QuickLikeLight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Airplane Sex, Alpha Tyler Posey, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Omega Dylan O'Brien, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, RPF, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan forgets his pillow before a long international flight. Tyler does what any good Alpha would do: helps him get to sleep anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Aid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrustG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrustG/gifts).



> After the frankly horrifying hatefic that ended up in the tags a couple of days ago, I decided to write some sweet, smutty O'Brosey to make myself feel better. Dan sent me this prompt: 
> 
> Dylan forgets his pillow when they're getting ready to fly somewhere. Tyler asks the flight attendant for privacy blinds and knots Dylan in the reclining first class seat to calm him down for the flight. They sleep like lil' angels ;)
> 
> .... How exactly could I refuse that? 
> 
> Characterization here avoids the obvious Hyper!Posey, mainly because of the recent Paleyfest appearance where Posey was so aggressively concerned with taking care of his castmates in what was a pretty awkward situation. I decided to keep with that theme for this.

“Shit, dude,” Dylan says, dragging his hand through his hair. He grimaces as he encounters the stiffly gelled strands, and Tyler frowns in sympathy. “I think I left my pillow in the car.”

“Oh no,” Tyler looks around them quickly, just to make sure the pillow didn’t fall anywhere, or get tucked away in an alcove, or maybe it got stuffed behind the seats -

“No, bro, I left it in the car. I didn’t even bring it in. Shit shit shit.” Dylan groans as he slumps down in his seat, legs sprawled out into the aisle. The flight attendant clucks at him as she skirts around his flailed limbs, and Tyler bundles him in, pulling him half into Tyler’s seat so he’ll have plenty of legroom. “I couldn’t sleep all night and now I’m not going to be able to sleep on this flight and I need to, man. I’m going to look like a zombie at the awards show and everyone’s going to think I’m on something or I’m, I dunno, depressed or whatever and I just -”

He breaks off, burying himself in Tyler’s hold and pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes, already heavy with dark circles. They’ve been separate for a while - not _separate_ , but apart, and it stings to know no one’s been looking after his boy in his absence, even if he would be a bit jealous if they were.

“I’m so sorry, man. I should have reminded you, or looked for it or something, I didn’t even think about it and I should-”

“Quit it,” Dylan huffs, shaking his head. “It’s not your job to get my pillow.”

Tyler nuzzles his nape, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s chest and pulling him in until his mouth can find the juncture of shoulder and neck, perfect for kissing and nuzzling and biting and -

“It’s kind of my job,” he says, smoothing his mouth over Dylan’s flesh, waiting for the goosebumps to calm. Dylan leans heavily against him, body tired and worn down from weeks of travel, going from one press event to the next. His limbs are almost as heavy as his eyelids, but he knows his boy won’t sleep without that pillow.

 _Unless_.

“Maybe I can help,” he says, smoothing his hands over Dylan’s torso.

“You gonna magically summon my pillow here?” Dylan grumps bad naturedly. Tyler just laughs.

“Maybe I can help _another_ way,” he says, grins when he feels Dylan’s breath catch in his chest. “A way I know always puts you right out.”

“Oh,” Dylan says stupidly, squirming back to get closer. “ _Ohhhh_.”

Up and down he moves his hands, rucking Dylan’s shirt up a little and then smoothing it back out, teasing. His fingers glance past the sensitive nipples that are always just a little puffed up, aching for attention, and he longs to cup Dylan’s chest with his bare hands, rub and soothe and gentle him that way.

“Careful,” Dylan warns, and Tyler’s hands still. “Getting me all worked up.”

Tyler laughs and presses hot kisses against his neck. “Kind of the idea.”

“Here? Right in front of everybody?” His face takes on that wide-eyed look that Tyler loves so well, jaw dropped and breath huffing out in a silent laugh, like it would be the most absurd thing for them to do. Like this is the worst place they’ve had sex.

“Like that time in the dressing room after your audition?” Tyler whispers, body curving around Dylan’s, pulling him closer as he blushes bright red. “Or the Mets game? Backstage at the Kid’s Choice Aw -”

“Oh God,” Dylan moans nodding furiously, cutting him off. “Okay, okay, get that girl back here, I need -”

“Shhhh,” Tyler pets him down, rubbing his hands down past the waistband of those familiar skinny khakis to where Dylan is already hard and aching. “I know what you need.”

Within minutes Tyler has him in position, privacy blinds blocking them from the rest of the cabin and seats pushed down flat. Dylan wiggles his khaki-clad ass in Tyler’s direction, urging him to move it along, but the sight of him there on all fours just waiting for the knot is too much. Tyler has to take a minute, a few deep breaths, and then his nose is full of the scent of his omega, his mate, and it’s everything he can do not to bury himself in to the hilt right then and there. He could get them off that way, sure. He could even get Dylan to sleep, but he might not stay that way the whole flight and…

Well. It’s a really long flight, is all.

“C’mon, man,” Dylan says, back arched and ass presented. “I need it. So bad, okay? Please just -”

Tyler hushes him by stripping his pants down, working them past the modest swell of his ass with a few rough pulls and then leaving them there around his knees, binding him in place. Dylan groans at it. From the other side of the privacy blind, they can both hear the rest of the plane going about its business, but Dylan doesn’t seem to care. He’s just as loud here as he is at home, in their car, in the hotel showers, the dressing rooms on set -

“ _Would you just_ -!”

“Yeah, okay,” Tyler agrees, but he doesn’t unzip his pants. Instead he kneels behind Dylan, grabs him by the hips and pulls that sweet ass to his mouth. The first lick is electric, like it always is. Dylan’s panting before he even realizes what’s happening, and a fresh gush of slick slips out of his hole into Tyler’s waiting mouth. “That’s right baby. Get wet for me.”

“Oh, fuck, _Tyler_ ,” Dylan moans, voice going high and reedy. He can’t control it, can’t control the way the mini-heats take him anytime Tyler offers him the knot, and it’s beautiful.

“Want to make sure you’re good and slick,” Tyler says with his mouth right up against skin. He knows it’s garbled, hard to understand, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Dylan just nods and ruts back against his mouth, pushing greedy into his lips like he’s three days into a heat and hasn’t seen a suppressant in a year.

Tyler’s so, so glad he knows what that looks like now.

“That’s my good boy,” he says, stroking a finger in and out of Dylan’s hot, wet hole. “So good for me baby. You open up so nice. Taste so good for me all the time, sweetheart.”

He slides his tongue inside with his finger, rolling them both in a way he knows drives Dylan wild, and he’s rewarded instantly. Dylan keens and gasps and his cock drools heavily all over the seat beneath him. Should have grabbed a towel. He knows his boy can’t help but make a mess.

“Gonna wear you out baby,” he promises, using his free hand to spread Dylan’s cheeks, open up his hole for inspection. He licks liberally around the rim, letting his tongue slip inside on every third or fourth lick, sometimes not until the fifth, just to keep Dylan on edge. Every time he does it, Dylan just shivers, nods his head like he can’t even talk. Like the formation of words is too much.

Tyler slides another finger in, pumping slow and steady like they have hours, and as far as he’s concerned, they do. He presses hard at Dylan’s prostate once, just to hear him curse, feel him buck up against the sensation, but then he avoids it. Doesn’t want it getting oversensitive before the knot inflates, after all. He drags his fingers out, pushes them back in, stretches and licks between them. Dylan’s delicious, always tastes amazing, even when he has that chemical hint of suppressants clouding everything up. Right now though he’s _au naturale_ , and only the sweet, pure taste of his arousal touches Tyler’s seeking tongue.

“P- please, Tyler,” he begs, and it sounds like it hurts him to be this turned on. His own cock is still trapped in his jeans, using the discomfort to try and avoid popping his knot too quickly. He can’t resist his boy begging, though.

“Are you ready for it baby?” he croons, dropping hot, wet, slick-stained kisses all over Dylan’s lower back, the swell of his cheeks, the crack of his ass. Dylan just huffs and arches back harder, ass turned up for him and belly close to the seat.

“Doesn’t it look like I’m ready?” he asks, sassy despite the desperation Tyler can smell all over him. It makes Tyler’s heart thud harder in his chest, the endearing reminder of Dylan’s little rebellious streak, the thing that set him apart from the other omegas Tyler had met from the very beginning. Tyler leans down and lavishes one last wet kiss against his hole, now pink and open and so ready for his cock. He frees himself one handed, much practiced at that particular maneuver, as he manages to pull Dylan into place with the other hand.

Under him, Dylan is a mess. Slick is smeared all over his skin, slipping steadily from his hole and running down his thighs. He shoves his jeans down further, hoping to keep them out of the mess, and then abandons them altogether, grateful he put sweats in his backpack for later. He strips out of his shirt, too, rubbing the soft black cotton against his sweaty torso before handing it forward, pushing it under Dylan’s nose.

“Want that baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer. Dylan growls at him - growls! - and snatches the shirt away with his teeth. He’s obviously further gone than Tyler expected, mini-heat blossoming into a full on event. Luckily international travel still takes time. Lots of time. “Want to ride you the whole time we’re in the air, sweetheart. Want to shove my knot in you and keep you full until we land in Germany. Would you like that? Waddle through the Frankfurt airport with me still knotted up inside you?”

Dylan moans and presses back, hole sweet and glistening and rubbing frantically against Tyler’s dick. The sight never fails to make his breath catch, Dylan’s body so hot and ready for him, so good and -

“Are you going to knot me or just sigh longingly over the lack of ass freckles again?” Dylan demands, bratty and scowling.

“Can’t I do both?” Tyler grins, but takes himself in hand anyway, presses the head of his cock to that perfect hole. “So hard for you, baby. Gonna fuck you so good, keep you knotted and full until you can’t take it anymore. Gonna -”

Dylan huffs an exasperated breath and shoves himself back, hard. His body pulses with heat around Tyler’s cock, buried so deep inside that the small swell of the knot rubs rough at his prostate. Tyler stills him with both hands around his hips, slowing him before he hurts himself.

“Hold it babe,” he grunts, trying to fight down the need to _fuck_ and _take_ and _breed_ welling up in his belly.

“No,” Dylan grits out, pushing back harder, working him deeper. Tyler shudders and grabs hold of his shoulders, pulling him back and up, until Dylan’s kneeling over his lap.

“Fine then, bossy,” he says, wrapping his forearm around Dylan’s soft stomach to hold him in place. His breath is hot against Dylan’s ear as he whispers, “You wanna be in charge? You’re in charge.”

Dylan shivers in the cool air of the plane, caught between sensations and desires. He bounces uncertainly in Tyler’s lap, trying to keep his balance without losing his rhythm. It’s a disaster, a little, and Tyler loves it, loves the way Dylan’s ass settles in the cup of his hips, the way Dylan’s legs are crumpled up and tucked next to his own, the way Dylan’s head falls back on his shoulder, giving him access to his mate’s throat.

“That’s right, honey,” he coos, thrusting up as Dylan fucks down, trying to help his boy get his rhythm back. He squeezes a nipple tightly between his fingers, reveling in the shocked gasp that spills from Dylan’s mouth, the way his ass clamps down hard on Tyler’s cock. “Ride me, Dylan. Come on baby. Fuck me hard.”

His words are scorching in the hushed air of their little cabin, and Dylan can’t resist, hot flush flooding his face and chest as he bounces harder, faster. His ass around Tyler’s cock is magic, like it always is, but he’s so much more interested in the way Dylan grunts and stutters, the way his skin pebbles in the wake of soft touches or long licks, how his pretty pink cock is soaked with precome, slicking the way for Tyler’s hand. The whole experience makes him dizzy, Dylan all around him, filling up his field of vision, wrapping long limbs around his body, enclosing him in their hot-perfect coupling. He lasts for another three struggling thrusts before he makes his move, pushing Dylan down until his shoulders hit the seats.

“Yes, yes, yes, come on, come on,” Dylan chants, voice ragged. It sends a frisson of pleasure up Tyler’s spine, hearing his lover so demanding. “Fuck me Tyler, come on, harder.”

He does, thrusting in hard and pulling out quickly, only to push in again. He pulls all the way out, watching as Dylan’s hole gapes open for him just for a moment, before plunging himself back into slick perfection.

“Made for me, weren’t you baby?” he asks, thrusting in and pushing down between Dylan’s shoulder blades, lowering his chest to the seats. The change in angle makes them both groan, loud and obscene, and Tyler barely has a thought to spare for the passengers on the other side of the blinds. “Your body’s so good. Just right for me, so good and strong and hot.”

He reaches under Dylan’s hips and grabs his cock, hand loose and teasing as he strips it. Dylan’s cock always makes his mouth water, wants to taste it every time, but the knot’s already swelling and if he pulls out now he thinks Dylan would probably kill him, so instead he licks the precome off of his hand, moaning loudly at the taste.

“Fuck, perfect,” he groans, using his spit-slick hand tighter on the shaft, jerking Dylan in an off-point rhythm to keep him on the edge without pushing him over. It’s a tactic he’s used often, one that earns him a flailing slap on the thigh.

“Make me come,” Dylan begs, words spilling out of his mouth unbidden. He always gets like this, right before, and Tyler wants to see it, wants to see him, the way his face will go blotchy and shocked, his mouth will fall open and his eyes will almost close but not quite, and -

“Fuck, fuck, Tyler, yes, shit, _ohhhhhh god_ , _Alpha_ ,” Dylan interrupts his thoughts, his thrusts, coming so hard his body locks up tight around Tyler’s cock, stilling him. The smell of Dylan’s come, the sweetness of his slick, the tight clench of Dylan around him is too much; the knot swells, beyond his control, filling his omega to the brim. It stretches Dylan obscenely pressing hard against his prostate and forcing another orgasm out of his spent cock as Tyler hunches through his own release, working the knot in tighter. His balls empty so forcefully it steals his breath, and pleasure flows through him, a buzzing under his skin that swells until his hips still, juddering to a stop with his knot buried deep.

“Yeah, ungh, yes, fuck, so good Ty…” Dylan trails off, already slumping into the seat like he can’t keep his legs steady any longer. Tyler maneuvers them both onto their sides with minimal hissing and straining, and maximum goofy, sated giggling.

“Thank goodness for the amenities of first class, huh?” Tyler laughs, scooping Dylan up around the waist and settling them both in for the flight. He grabs a blanket from his own seat and tucks it around them both, working his arm under Dylan’s head so that his neck won’t get stiff. “You comfy babe?”

No answer comes, and Tyler tries again, fighting the lassitude that’s already stealing over him as the knot continues to throb within the warm hold of Dylan’s body. “Baby? Dylan, you alright?”

A soft snore is the only answer he gets.

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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